with cosmos in my soul
by NikeScaret
Summary: In which Damian is a god, and some things change because of it, but others stay the same since fate wants to play out in certain a way.
1. Chapter 1

Damian's born with galaxies swirling in his irises and the power of the stars underneath his skin, and with the knowledge of millennia tucked away in his mind.

Damian's born too old for his body and yet the right age, with a soul that shines like a supernova and threatens to burn anything that comes into contact.

The Lazarus Pit shies away when he's born, and Death avoids him because he's the one who created them, who can take them apart as easily as he can put them together, and it doesn't matter if he's in a mortal shell, he still has his power that lurks just out of reach.

Damian's only a year old and yet his eyes say he has more experience than anything.

Damian's only a year old, and he already has the world at his fingertips and the universe in his soul.

Talia tells him that he's meant to rule when he's four, but the moment he was born, Earth surrendered to his commands.

Damian doesn't tell her.

* * *

Damian likes to play. He does.

He just doesn't play like others.

The play he does is bloody. It's swords that shine in the moonlight, red hearts that stop beating. It's the smooth movement of a killing blow, the snarls and fear of battle.

Nobody ever said that the cosmos is calm.

Nobody ever said that it's kind.

Damian can feel stars dying in his chest and new ones being born. He can feel the molten surface of newly formed planets burning.

Space is violent, and it isn't kind.

It's only natural that he's the same.

But nobody has said that it isn't beautiful, because it is.

It is, and Damian reflects that.

He shows it in the graceful steps, in the lights he makes that are reminiscent of the sun, in the way that his eyes seen to flow from one shade of green to another.

He shows it in his very being and his actions, and Damian knows he's beautiful.

Beautiful, enticing, and most of all _dangerous_.

And Damian smiles as a star dies and the Lantern Core runs to some battle, and he falls to the ground with his human mother's sword at his neck.

"You lost, Damian." She says, and Damian fights back a laugh. "You'll have to try again."

If Damian had been trying, her head would be gone from her body.

Instead, he nods, and accepts her hand.

He wants to be as strong as he possibly can before he's fifteen, and that's why he's putting up with this.

(Damian ignores the small part of him that's attached to this woman, this woman who's used his creation many times for herself.

He ignores it, and so it isn't there.)

* * *

Damian's four in this flesh when Jason Todd appears.

He knows what happened to him-he felt the way Gotham groaned and snarled. He knows.

But he's not who he used to be.

Jason's just a body using muscle memory, and Damian takes it upon himself to help.

He uses his powers to ease the anguish in his mind and creates light shows as he reads to Jason, makes the scenes come to life with a wave of his hand.

The universe might be cruel, but it is giving.

Damian is the same.

But Talia seems to grow tired of trying to heal Jason, and so she takes him to the Lazarus Pit.

Damian follows and watches as Jason, eyes wide and unseeing and yet still revealing such emotion as he's lowered into the green. Damian feels pity rise in his chest, and his eyes flash brilliant white as he whispers, _Do not harm him._

The Pit trembles before him and obeys, gently washing away his self-appointed ward's physical injuries, but it is in it's nature to bring pain, and so it makes Jason feel rage that makes him shake in place.

Jason emerges from the green wearing the clothes Damian dressed him in that morning, screaming out names and Damian reaches out, tossing a tiny piece of light to ease the transition.

When Jason's alone, sitting in a room that's apparently his but it's not, Damian enters.

"What do you want, kid?" Jason asks him, and Damian momentarily bristles. He's not a _child-_

Damian breathes and lets the glow fade from his skin, and his eyes stop having galaxies spin.

"I was taking care of you." Damian says, and he climbs onto the bed with a book.

"You don't need to any-" Jason starts, and Damian cuts him off.

"I do. Now shut up, and let me read."

Jason shuts up.

And Damian reads.

* * *

Jason and Damian develop a bond.

Jason and Damian are family.

Damian goes to Jason's for to relax, and Jason talks to him when he won't talk to anyone.

It's… Nice.

Damian knows that it will end, though.

He just… Wishes that it isn't so soon.

Jason's kneeling in front of him, big hands heavy on Damian's five year old shoulders, and Damian has never felt so out of control.

Plasma writhes underneath his skin in protest.

"Dami, I have to go." Jason says, and his voice is soft.

Damian grinds his teeth together. "I know. But I don't want you to."

Jason laughs and pulls him in for a hug. Damian only lets him do it because it's _Jason._

"I know. But I need more training."

"But you can get all of your training right here!" Damian says, and his voice is muffled from Jason's chest.

Tears are gathering in Damian's eyes, and normally he would stop them, would angrily stifle them, but Jason is leaving, and he's one of the only stable points in Damian's life.

Damian thinks he has the right to cry.

Haley's Comet sails past asteroids and little bits of ice fall off, and Damian thinks those shards are his tears.

"I can't-your mother says that I can't."

"Fuck her! You need to stay with me!" Damian shouts, because he knows how fickle human memory is, how _e_ _asy_ it is for mortals to _forget._

He doesn't want to be forgotten.

"Kid, I need to if I'm ever going to go back to Gotham." Jason tries, and Damian's had enough.

He screams, high and mighty, and it breaks the windows.

Jason stares and Daman runs.

He runs and runs, and he doesn't look back, because Jason was his and now he's not.

Jason's gone by morning, but Damian has already buried the incident in his mind.

He doesn't want anyone who would abandon him so readily to know his secret.

* * *

Damian's nine and he hasn't heard from Jason in two years.

He turns his sadness into anger, and soldiers on, throwing himself into his training in a way that Jason would disapprove of.

 _But Jason isn't here,_ Damian thinks as he holds the tip of a dagger to his target's neck.

Jason isn't here, and Talia isn't holding back.

Damian takes lives just like his stars and he doesn't feel remorse because he's raised the way.

Blood stains his hands and drips to the floor, and Damian's still too old for his body, still has the cosmos in his soul, but sometimes he feels like he's falling apart.

He's never gotten attached before.

Now he cares for two people and one has left and the other is distant.

He's close to shattering the day of his tenth birthday, but he beats Talia because he doesn't care how much he shows.

But he beats Talia, which means that he can meet his father, and Damian knows that means going to Gotham, which is where Jason is.

Damian hopes that he sees Jason, hopes that Jason remembers him.

Damian hopes that he comes to care for his father, and his father for him.

Damian hopes many things but only some of them come true.

* * *

The first time Damian sees his father face to face, Damian is ten and his father is beat.

The first time Damian meets his father, he holds a sword to his throat and says, "Hello, Father. I thought you'd be taller."

When Damian is ten years old, a tick tock begins in the back of his head, and he goes with his father to Gotham, filled with wishes and wants and Bruce Wayne doesn't know.

* * *

The Manor isn't like Damian is used to.

It's quiet.

Damian's used to the bustle of servants and trainees and masters and sparring.

The Manor is far too quiet.

Then there's Tim Drake.

Damian-

Damian meets him, and he knows he's seen this soul before.

Damian reaches out and let's a long, graceful finger rest on that soul and he knows./p

Tim Drake is someone that he's met.

That doesn't mean that Damian will respect him. Experience shapes the individual, and the soul provides the core characteristics.

That, and Damian wants his spot as Robin because maybe then he'll find Jason.

But Bruce won't let him out.

Damian finds this stupid and goes out anyway, heading for Red Hood's territory.

Jason will know him. Jason will help him.

Jason will-

"Hey, kid."

Jason.

Damian turns around and there he is, in a leather jacket, bullet proof armour, and a red helmet.

Damian smiles, wanting nothing more than to have Jason hug him again.

"What are you doing here?" Jason asks, and Damian takes off his mask, looking for recognition.

There no-

"Who are you?"

There's none. Jason doesn't remember him.

Damian strangles the sob that tries to force itself out of his throat. Jason was supposed to remember him, supposed to explain humans to him because Damian doesn't understand them, not even after ten years of being one.

Jason-

Damian puts his domino mask back on and jumps away.

If Jason doesn't know him, then Damian won't bother him.

He won't.

* * *

Damian knows that he'll get in trouble, but that doesn't bother him. He can feel a galaxy dying millions of billions light years away, and the terror the planets feel is miniscule to his own.

Damian lost one of the two people he loves.

He only has one left, and Damian is miles away from her, can't protect her because his body can only been in one place at once.

Talia is by herself without his protection, and that's what scares Damian.

Bruce is yelling at him, Damian realizes dimly.

He doesn't care.

He wants to go home, he wants his mother, he wants-

He wants to go back to when Jason was there and he was only four, and Talia was more of a mother than she's ever been.

He wants to go back to when they were brothers, and-

"Damian!" Bruce roars, and Damian snaps to attention.

"I don't feel regret." The word slip out, and it's an utter lie, every word of it.

He regrets that he broke out, regrets that he extinguished his flame of hope he's carried for three years, because sometimes that's all that kept him going.

He regrets and wants to go home.

Bruce is talking again, and Damian tunes him out, and pays attention to the Guardians of Oa.

They're trying to find out where he went.

A small smirk flickers to life before dying, because Bruce is sending him to his room.

Damian does as he's told, and lays down upon his bed, and stares at the ceiling with a knife in his heart.

He tilts his head back and breathes.

It will get better.

And if it doesn't…

Daman glances at the katana by the door and clenches his fist, light gathering in his palm.

If it doesn't, Damian will be what he was before.

* * *

Bruce dies only a month into Damian's stay at the Manor, but by then Damian has come to form a small bond with him.

The loss tears at his chest, makes him scream and struggle to keep his power under control, because he knows he could destroy the world if he loses even a bit.

Damian goes out and _fights_ because that's the only thing he knows.

Gotham is in chaos, big villains are running the city, and Damian refuses to let it continue.

Bruce loved this city, loved it so completely that Damian has to save it.

The sky whispers in his ears, tells him where to land and where to go, and Damian follows its advice.

When it's all said and done, when Dick has taken over the role of Batman and Damian has the role of Robin for good, Damian heads to Bruce's grave and sets a few contained stars he made the night before by his headstone.

They shine like the sun, and it's best thing Damian could make.

He sits there, simply reading the words carved into the stone, and wonders how humans can move through the emotions that cloud their mind and fill their heart.

How can they move on?

Damian sits in front of his father's grave and wonders.

* * *

"Damian?" Dick's voice is hesitant.

Damian doesn't hear him.

"Damian?" The brush slides over the canvas, leaving color on its wake.

Damian supposes he's always been an artist. He sets the stars in patterns, draws with nebula clouds, and creates the planets how he wants.

"Damian?"

He dots white upon black and paints Krypton in it's last days.

It's one of his more memorable creations.

"Damian!"

His headphones are yanked out of his ears, music blasting loud enough that they can hear it, and Damian glares.

"What?" He snaps, setting down his brush.

"I-" Dick stumbles over his words. Damian raises a eyebrow.

Dick takes a breath. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"

Damian thinks about it.

He hasn't eaten in a few days, and he can feel his limbs weighing down. It would be logical to get a meal.

Damian nods, adds the final touch to Krypton, and rises. "Fine."

Dick's face lights up, and he grabs him by the wrist, dragging him out the door. "Yes! I know a good burger place-"

Damian let's him talk and ponders on whether or not Dick Grayson will end up being someone he lets inside his heart.

The three times he let someone in, he got hurt twice.

He doesn't want it to happen again.

His irises shine with the Milky Way at the thought and nobody notices.

* * *

Dick sneaks his way into Damian's heart without Damian's permission. He forces his way into Damian's care and refuses to leave, and Damian is powerless to stop, powerless to say _no._

He's always been terrible at denying those he claims as his.

But Dick is Batman, and Damian is Robin, and Damian's learning more and more about being human, about being Damian Wayne, that Jason almost slips from his thoughts.

Almost.

Jason lurks in Damian's mind when he's ready to sleep, when Dick is hugging him, when he's practicing a move that Jason helped him perfect.

Jason Todd is always there, and Damian knows him, loves him, but Jason doesn't.

But that doesn't matter, not when he's with Dick, because Dick is not Jason. Dick is a planet unto himself, and for once Damian knows how the moons feel.

Damian orbits Dick Grayson, and he doesn't want to let go.

Dick promises him that they won't be separated, swears to it, and Damian has no reason not to believe him, no reason to doubt him.

Dick has always kept his promises.

Later, he will look back on that with disgust-he was naive, even after a millennia, because Bruce comes back.

Bruce comes back, and he makes the transition from Bruce to Father, and Dick leaves.

Dick _leaves._

Damian-

Damian goes into the forest at night while Father is out on patrol and lets loose.

He screams and curses Dick Grayson, who lied to him so much, who broke his promise.

Light races up his veins and floods out of his eyes, and the stars glow brighter and the moon spins, and a entire solar system is destroyed.

He razes everything he can find, obliterates trees and stars spin to life on his fingertips, dazzling and near their end, and he pushes them into the ground, uses his strength to push them deeper, and feels the Earth buck up, shake and tremble from his rage.

He screams again, and the sky seems to form a crack, the ozone layer buckling under the strain of his emotions, and he can feel his body breaking down, but he doesn't want to stop, he _c_ _an't_ stop.

Damian reshapes the landscape and it's still not enough, and he disregards the tears falling from his eyes.

He only ever seems to get hurt.

He only ever seems to love and get punished for doing it.

All he wants-

Damian falls to his knees, then all fours, and he screams again, voice hoarse and choking on his cries.

He _hates_ Dick Grayson.

He hates him.

Hates him, hates him, hates him-

"You _b_ _astard!"_ Damian shouts to the world, and he hopes that Dick can hear him. "I hope you know that you aren't anything to me!"

Damian sobs for for the almost-father he lost, for the bond that was broken.

Damian falls asleep in that clearing two miles wide, falls asleep and dreams of better times. Where Talia and Father are together and happy, and Damian has two parents, where Dick doesn't lie, where Jason remembers him and gives him the hugs that make Damian feel like he's _s_ _afe._

He dreams, and they're his most guarded wishes, and he believes they're real until he wakes up.

* * *

Damian lives with Father and Pennyworth, and he's content.

Father-

Father is strict, but he's only wishing for what is best.

Damian knows this.

But he is much, much older than Father, and is aware of his limits, so he pays no heed to Father's orders, because he is conscious of his body.

Father...dislikes that.

Damian shrinks under his glare, and he wishes that Dick was here. But then he shakes off that fantasy and stands straight, glaring right back.

Damian doesn't need to tell him that he didn't get hurt.

Damian doesn't need to tell him anything.

"Just...Just go to your room."

Damian obeys. Then he sneaks out and goes to Jason's.

And he waits for him to come home.


	2. Chapter 2

Damain's asleep when Jason walks through the door, curled up around a pillow.

"Demon Brat, what the hell are you doing in my room?" Jason asks loudly, and Damian slowly comes to, and right now his eyesight is blurry, and he thinks its years ago, so he grabs Jason's arm and pulls him onto the couch and climbs into his lap, tucking his head under Jason's head like he's done it a million times before.

Jason freezes. "Damian?"

Damian makes a noise, shivers, and Jason automatically grabs a blanket. He lays it on top of the little boy and simply watches as Damian drops back off to sleep, clutching Jason's shirt and letting out little puffs of breath.

Damian's been raised by the League of Assassins.

He shouldn't _trust_ Jason this much.

But he does, and it's been so long since anyone has trusted him this much, this completely, so he wraps his arms around Damian, and leans forward.

He rests his chin on Damian's head, and rocks back and forth, humming a tune he didn't even know but seems familiar and falls asleep to Damian's warmth and a feeling in his chest.

Jason falls asleep, and for once he doesn't dream.

* * *

Damian wakes up, and for a moment he can pretend everything is fine. He knows these arms. He's safe.

It passes, and he stiffens.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck-_

Why did he come here?

Damian recalls his thinking patterns.

He thought…

He thought that-that Jason could help with the ball of _feelings_ in his chest, because it was overwhelming him to the point where he felt like he was downing, and Dick was gone so he couldn't help like he normally could, so he went to Jason.

Damian scowls.

Why the hell did he think that?

Jason doesn't _know_ him beyond the fact that he's Robin.

But…

Damian shifts, and Jason wakes up.

Damian rolls into the floor, landing the way he was trained, and looks up at Jason.

His heart thuds in his chest.

 _Thump-thump-thu-_

"Hey" Jason says.

Damian jumps to his feet and runs.

He can't-

Jason grabs his ankle, makes him fall to the floor, and pulls him to his chest.

Damian struggles the whole way because he's not ready for this, he can't face Jason, he _can't-_

Damian kicks and bites, and Jason gets hurt, but he still doesn't let go.

He needs to let go.

He needs to-

Damian hits him in just the right place, and Jason drops him.

Damian's out the window in a moment, bounding on the rooftops to get away.

A laugh tickles his ears, and Damian glares at the sky. "You may find this funny, but I'll be laughing when you explode."

The sun doesn't dignify that with an answer.

"Demo-Damian!"

Jason's chasing him.

Adrenaline bursts through his veins, and Damian goes faster.

It's almost like those times when he and Jason raced on the roofs of the compound, breathy laughter echoing in the wind and Damian just a step ahead.

Almost.

Jason catches his wrist, just like he used to, only it's not in the desert sun and Damian isn't as carefree and Jason isn't going to tickle him until he cries.

Instead, Jason pins him.

He hasn't-

He hasn't done that since the second month of him being lucid.

Damian lashes out, teeth bared. He isn't _his_ Jason, no matter how similar they act, or how similar they look.

It. Isn't. _H_ _im!_

Jason evades just as Damian drops his head into the stone below.

He's… He's been avoiding that thought.

He's clung onto the hope that Jason will get his memories back for so long that Damian shuts down without it.

He goes limp and doesn't see, doesn't hear.

Doesn't notice anything.

And he doesn't know for how long.

It scares him.

* * *

Damian comes to when he's being lifted into arms and held like a baby, and the emotions that weigh him down makes Damian want to rip out his heart./p

 _"Jason. What. Happened."_

That's-

That's _Dick-_

Damian lifts his head from Jason's shoulder and turns exhausted eyes over to where Dick is.

He's red now.

Red instead of blue.

But his face is the same, and it softens when he looks over at Damian.

Damian looks back down.

"I don't _know, okay?"_ Jason snarls, arm tightening around Damian, like he'll be taken away.

Damian's eyes glow a bit as the thought.

"Well, something must have happened!" Dick snaps back, and Damian has almost never heard Dick sound so-so _angry._

"Little D, why don't you come home?" Dick asks after a moment of silence.

Damian winces; Father will be furious. He doesn't want to go back.

Jason turns him away from Dick. "Yeah, no."

Dick narrows his eyes and his hands hover around his escrima sticks.

Damian focuses on Dick's fingers as Jason and Dick start to circle each other.

They don't have finger-stripes.

Damian squeezes his eyes shut-he feels sick.

Everything just seems too much right now, like every little detail is a giant wave that crashes into him.

Damian scrubs under his eyes. It's too loud.

It's too bright.

It's too much.

Damian feels out of control, like everything is the size of the galaxy and he can't-

He's hyperventilating.

Damian buries his face in Jason's leather jacket, trying to regulate his breathing.

It doesn't work.

His eyesight is going blurry, and he can't _breathe-_

He's on the ground again.

He's on the ground with Jason and Dick in front of him, and he tries to close his eyes.

He can't, but he can cover his ears, and that's enough right now.

Dick's talking, and Damian can't hear him, but he's been trained to read lips.

 _Damian, calm down._

Damian wants to laugh. _I would if I could!_

Jason shoves Dick aside and places his hands on Damian's shoulders.

 _Dick, shut up. Let me._

Gamma rays shine from the stars, and Damian watches as they land.

 _Damian, look at me. It's going to be fine._

Damian shakes his head. It's not going to be fine.

It hasn't been fine since Damian was six.

He's just-

Dark matter laughs at him, coaxing him to come back.

Damian wants to, so badly.

Jason tears Damian's hands away from his ears. "Damian, you need to breathe."

Damian sucks in a breath he didn't ever know he needed.

His head clears.

"Damian, listen to me. You need to calm down."

It's-it's like those times when Damian had gotten too worked up and Jason had to talk to him.

Jason has the same tone.

Damian clings to Jason's neck, because that's what he did back then, and it's hard to get rid of habits that you simply don't have the opportunity to do.

Jason wraps his arms around Damian's back, just like he always did, and it's muscle memory, Damian knows, so he doesn't get his hopes up again.

Dick's watching from the sidelines, stance wary, and Damian remembers how much he _hates_ him.

Hates everything.

He slips out of the hug like he's water, like he's those little bits of rock that glide in and out of the asteroid belt, and steps back.

He can't do this.

He can't.

Damian turns and runs, leaves Jason and Dick in dust, leaping across the gaps between buildings, and he wonders why he's always running away.

* * *

 _Tick, tock._

 _Tick, tock._

The universe laughs, mad and free, and Damian covers his ears.

 _Tick, tock._

It's a countdown.

But for what?

The wind caresses his cheek, and the moon looms overhead, and they offer no answers.

 _Tick, tock._

 ** _Tick, tock._**

It's gotten louder.

Like the sound of a piano keys being slammed.

 **Tick, tock.**

 **Tick, tock.**

Damian claws at his face.

Why? Why, why, why-

His nails are wet.

Damian pulls back and-

Blood.

Damian closes his eyes, the _tick, tock_ fading as he bandages his face.

This-

This can't happen again.

He can't afford to do self harm.

 _(Tick, tock!_ The cosmos sing, and Damian ignores it.)

* * *

Titus is a unexpected surprise.

He…

Damian likes him, almost.

He's loyal down to his soul, and all he ever really thinks about is playing.

Damian should know-he's checked.

But-

He likes Titus. He really does, and for once Damian gets some sleep when Titus climbs into bed with him.

Damian hasn't been sleeping for a while now.

So when he stands in front of Martha and Thomas Wayne's grave, the bags under his eyes more noticeable than ever, when he gives Titus his name, Damian looks at his lifespan.

And it breaks his heart.

If he's healthy, maybe nine years.

Damian refuses to accept that.

He gently loosens the tie that binds Titus' soul's contract to death, and it instantly adds nine more years.

Then Damian names him, claims him as his, and he feels it wash over Titus in a way that hasn't really been _done_ before.

But then Ducard comes, Damian goes with him, and he can't stop to _think_ on what happened.

Not until it's four in the morning, with Titus laying his head on Damian's stomach, and Damian scratching his ear that he feels it.

A bond. A bond that shines silver, and Damian basks in its presence, smiles at the ceiling as he falls asleep.

For once, Damian knows he's not alone.

* * *

Talia places a five billion dollar bounty on his head./

Damian stares at the screen, eyes widening.

 _"... What?"_

Talia-

Talia wants him _dead._

Damian reaches out with his powers, wishing for the comfort of knowing that his mother is being mind controlled orem _something,_ /embut-/p

There's no foreign presence.

His mother wants him _dead._

Damian walks away from the screen, a whine starting in his ears until it blocks out everything.

 _Tick, tock._

Suddenly, sickeningly, Damian knows what that count down is for.

He's going to die.

Damian glances around, and nods.

If-if he's going to die soon, he might as well die after doing things that he's been thinking of doing.

(He swallows down the bile in his throat, because you never show emotion, not when it involves Talia.

Still-

Still, he thought that Talia valued him more than that.

Apparently not, and Damian punches the cave wall in rage.)

* * *

Damian breathes through his nose.

In. Out.

In. Out.

His brothers argue below, shouting and snarling, and Damian wants silence.

But he called them here, so he might as well tell them why they're here.

"Neither did I, so who-"

"That would be me." Damian says, sliding down, and he ignores how his heart wrenches at the sight of Dick and Jason.

"With a _half-billion-dollar_ bounty on your head, shouldn't you be in your crib back at the manor instead of making yourself an easy target for em _assassins?"_ Jason shouts, guns pointed at him, and Damian tells himself that he imagined the tone of concern in Jason's voice.

Why would he care?

 _(Tick, tock!_ The stars above giggle. _Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick-)_

"You mean _these_ assassins?" Damian asks sarcastically as he drops the two he caught only minutes before on the roof.

"Why are you wasting our time?" Jason snarls, but his guns are lowered, and Damian counts that as a win as he lands in front of his 'siblings'.

"I'm serving notice."

"Of what?" Dick asks, and Damian strangles the urge to throw a asteroid in his face.

Damian looks over his shoulder. "Day or night, when you least expect it, I'm going to defeat you at something you feel _unbeatable_ at."

p"You're going to attack us?" Dick says, and his face is set in disappointment.

Shame sinks into his bones.

Damian forcefully makes it go away.

"Yes, then I'm going to take something personal of your as a memento and hang it in my room."

It sounds so stupid, so recklessly idiotic, but right now Damian doesn't care.

He has less than five months to live, and all he wants to show that he's not a child, that he can handle himself and that when he goes, he has things that remind him of his family around him.

He may hate Dick, he may actively dislike Tim, and he may despair over Jason, but they're family.

He hasn't had a family before.

"And this is to prove _what,_ exactly?" Dick demands. Damian clenches his teeth as he gives the answer they expect.

"That I am the best Robin, of course."

"To who?"

"To you. To him. To me."

Secretly, Damian thought that he was a excellent Robin, but…

He's hardly the best.

"You've got _nothing_ to prove-none of us do-" Dick stops, and Damian dares to look back. "...Well, actually, maybe you do-"

Damian kills the want to interrupt and defend Jason. Jason doesn't need his protection, no matter how much Damian wishes to give it.

"But you heard what he said at the portrait sitting."

Damian hated that. Why sit still for hours when a person could be training or doing anything else?

Damian isn't built to not be in motion. Everything he represents is constantly moving, and Damian often feels this itch under his skin, just below the surface that says he should be doing the same.

That same itch is rising, and Damian scratches at his knee.

 _"Portrait sitting?_ Guess my invitation was lost in the mail." Jason shouts, and Damian fights back the urge to laugh. Jason did have a sense of humor that wasn't lost.

"Forewarned is forearmed." Damian recites, pulling his hood over his head as the clouds murmur about killers after him in his ears.

"Bat-san still preaching that old chestnut, huh?"

 _Yes, he is, Jason._ Damian thinks with a small sigh. He despises that lesson. In space there's typically little warning.

"You're ten years old-any one of us can wipe the floor with you." Tim says with a smirk.

Damian scowls. He could incinerate them right now, and nobody would be any the wiser on who did it because according to them, he's not a meta.

Well. He isn't, technically.

"You can em _try."_ Damian tells him instead as he launches himself off the air conditioner, rain beating against his cape. "Now excuse me, there are a few more assassins who need to learn why Gotham can be an _unforgiving_ place."

Just like him. They're well matched, this city and him.

Maybe that's why she likes him so much.

* * *

Tim's easy.

It's the same night in fact, and Damian's sitting in Father's chair, absently looking at the screen when his brother comes riding in on his bike.

Damian winces internally, already wishing he isn't doing this. Tim's mental state is unstable at best, falling apart at worst, and Damian's read about what he has. This is only going to make it worse, but this is the best he's come up with on short notice, and he knows what he's going to say.

So he talks the talk, plays the footage, and tells his brother, "From where I'm sitting, it looks like _killing_ could be your specialty."

Tim attacks after that.

Damian defends. He stops the staff, kicks Tim in the face, and ends up getting thrown through a uniform display case with Tim shouting, "You were a bit _psychotic!"_

No matter how much Damian feels like he's about to lose his mind, no matter how much he wants to simply destroy everything that has ever caused him pain, because maybe then it won't hurt as much, he has not been psychotic.

He can't afford to be.

So he ends the fight with a few placed words, gets Tim to admit that the thought of killing crossed his mind, and then he's alone in the Cave, blood on his face and the the words, "A Wayne and a Robin." echoing around him.

Damian goes to bed, tired beyond belief, but triumphant.

He'll collect his prize later, and radiation purrs in his chest.

* * *

Jason's next.

But-

Damian considers the crowbar in his hands, heavy and weighted like a planet, and hesitates.

He…

Damian places the crowbar back on his desk.

He can't do that to Jason.

So he turns around, and rummages through his things from the compound.

There's one thing he has, a reminder of Jason that he's held onto for years now, and he just-

It's a good memory.

He gently lifts the photograph from his bag, running a finger across Jason's face, sorrow filling his heart.

It was taken within the first years of them knowing each other, when Jason didn't know about Tim, when he was there because he wanted to be, because he loved Damian enough to stay.

Damian hugs the frame to his chest, feeling tears prickle his eyes.

Jason's laughing, head thrown back and eyes sparkling with Damian curled up under his arm, little five year old form perfectly able to fit. He's grinning when this was taken, Damian knows, because he made Jason laugh until he started snorting and still couldn't stop laughing, and somehow Damian found that funny enough to giggle at.

Damian's fingers tighten around the wood.

He doesn't want to give this up, he never has, but-

The alternative is worse.

Damian sucks in his emotions, feels the smallest pressure on the sky ease up, and stops his trembling the best he can.

He has to do this.

He'll-

He'll get it back.

Even-

Even if Jason doesn't return it, Damian will steal it.

Damian nods, standing straight with the slightest shaking in his hands and goes to Jason's safe house.

This will work.

 _Tick. Tock._

* * *

Damian's just placed the picture on Jason's bed when the door opens.

"Hello, safe house."

Damian jumps to the ceiling, clinging to the shadows, eyes glinting white in the darkness.

"Hello, bed. Hello, pillow." Jason says from below, and Damian smiles lightly. Jason's done that as long as Damian has known him.

Then Jason lifts away the red covers.

And the photo is revealed.

"...What the hell?" Jason breathes, eyes locked on his face.

Damian drops from above.

"I thought leaving that would shock you enough for you to let your guard down." Damian sneers, twisting Jason's jacket until it's over his head and Damian kicks him in the chin.

"Demon-"

"I'm _not_ a demon." Damian hisses, anger rising and light traveling up his veins as he kicks Jason into the wall.

He's _nothing_ like those lowlifes.

"Fine! Then-"

"Shut up."

Damian's voice is void. It's flat, and it seems to draw Jason short.

They stare at each other from opposite sides of the room with the picture of happy times destroyed years ago between them and lost memories a bitter divide.

"When was that taken?" Jason finally asks when the silence got too heavy.

Damian closes his eyes behind his mask, grip tight on the handle of his sword. "...It doesn't matter."

But it does, _oh_ it does.

It matters so much.

"Damian-"

"I said it doesn't matter!" Damian snaps, baring his teeth as he bends to pick it up. He stares at it for a moment before setting it down beside Jason's helmet.

"It does-"

 _"No, it doesn't!"_ Damian cries, launching himself at his brother.

It matters to Damian. _Only_ him. Never Jason.

 _Never_ Jason.

"When was it taken?" Jason roars, knocking the sword out of Damian's grasp and pinning him to the floor.

"It. Doesn't. Matter." Damian growls and kicks Jason in the chest.

Jason stumbles backwards, a scowl forming as Damian scoots away until he bumps into the dresser behind him.

They're both breathing heavily, looking at each other with world weary eyes, and this is going nothing like how Damian wants it to.

"Why was it taken, then?" Jason asks, and Damian leans his head back until it hits the wood of the dresser, laughing for everything its worth.

It's a serious question, and Damian has no answer that will make any sense for this Jason.

Jason had told him that it's because it shows how much they love each other, and Damian still believes that, even now with only one of their duo remembering.

But this Jason, right here and now, doesn't know.

And Damian won't tell him.

"Damian-"

Damian ends the fight with a blow to Jason's head, a move taught to him by the man himself.

"Sorry, Jason." He whispers as he tucks away the picture and grabbing the helmet that gives Red Hood his name.

He escapes out the window, and only his words linger.

"You wouldn't understand."

 _(Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, to-)_


	3. Chapter 3

Damian stares at the picture of the Joker.

He doesn't see that hideous face.

 _If you haven't already noticed, kid, you're already wearing the "R" on your chest._

Damian grits his teeth, clenches his fist as he tries not to throw the case file at the door.

It's not that simple.

It never has been.

For Dick, for everyone else, it might be, but it's _not._

The escrima stick that hangs from the wall shouldn't be his, but it is.

Damian sighs and scrubs at his eyes. They sting and ache, but it's familiar.

He's tired, far too tired, but Dick's words still ring in his ears.

It's not-

Yes, he loves being Robin, loves being with Father and Alfred, but he didn't attack his family over the role of being Robin.

He just wishes that they understand that.

Damian's _done_ with being looked at like he's going to kill everyone, like he's going to suddenly snap.

He's _done_ with being called a demon, done with his name-his _first_ name, his only name-being said like it's a curse, like it's something he doesn't deserve, something that he has to _e_ _arn._

It's his _name,_ it was given to _him_. It's not something he should have to earn.

Damian'se _d_ _one._

But right now the Joker's loose, and Damian refuses to wallow in his self-pity when the most insane being he's ever known is free.

He'll confront everyone later.

He'll-

Damian falls to sleep against Titus with his headphones in and the file spread around him.

He doesn't wake up until Father shakes his shoulder.

(He never gets the chance to have that discussion.)

* * *

The Joker captures them, the Joker captures _him._

He can hear the maniacal laughter, can feel Father's terror, can feel Father's anger-

He can feel the worry coming from everyone.

Damian blocks out everything.

Father rescues everyone, of course, but-

Damian thinks that maybe he should forgive Dick.

He could practically hear Dick's thoughts, could see the way his eyes darted over to him constantly, could see how he pulled against his restraints.

Perhaps-

Perhaps he didn't want to leave, after all.

Damian could accept that.

So once everything was calm, Damian went over to Dick and calmly said, "I no longer hate you." and left.

He went to bed with a lighter heart and had better dreams.

He should have known nothing would last.

* * *

Damian sucks in a breath and knows that was a mistake.

Horror rises, fear grips, and suddenly he's alone.

 _(Tick, tock. How many more minutes until there's no more time? How many minutes until you die? Tick, Tock.)_

"Father?"

 _He's not here anymore…_

His surroundings melt into the compound.

Jason stands in front of him, grin wide and eyes bright, and Damian laughs, feeling like he's seven again.

"Jason, you came back." He says, and Jason nods his head.

Jason opens his mouth, when everything winks out of existence, leaving him only in the stars.

He can't see Earth.

He can't-

"Where's Earth!" Damian shouts, whipping around.

There's nothing familiar.

Nothing familiar-

Damian _made_ the universe, _everything_ should be familiar.

Where is he?

Where-

A cruel laugh echoes.

 _You'd think that you could ever be happy?_

"I can be! I can be, I _was_ happy-"

 _(Am I already dead, have I already died-)_

pPlasma bucks against him, knocks him down as he stares at his creations.

 _B_ _ut what about when it **ends**. What then?_

"I'll-I'll figure it out-"

Matter burns, stars blind, planets crush-

 _(_ _Tick, tock! Tick, tock!)_

Y _ou'll go insane…._

"No! I won't-I can't-" Damian screams as the weight of his responsibility breaks his chest.

Wait, he shouldn't have a chest-

 _You almost did before, don't you remember?_

Damian stops.

Did he-

"Did I?" He whispers, millions of years flashing behind his eyes.

Radiation giggles.

Why is everything turning against him-

The floor drops and he's falling, falling with no end, and he's sobbing, crying out for it to stop.

He feels so breakable, so mortal, and it terrifies him.

 _(Tick, tock, tick, tock-)_

Asteroids hit his body, shatter his bones, and it _hurts,_ it hurts, oh it hurts.

 _(Ticktockticktockticktock-)_

He wants his Father. He wants Jason. He wants Dick-

"Someone!" Damian howls and chokes as comets fill his throat, dirty and-

A hand.

Damian grabs it desperately, wishes that it's one of his family, and let's himself be pulled into a door.

He lands on his knees in front of Ra's and Talia.

No, no, no, no-

"Damian." Talia intones, and Damian feels a brief moment of gladness that she used his name- _h_ _is only name, his only name, why is it his only name-_ but that turns to terror when she hands him a sword and makes him face a little girl.

She's weeping, wrists tied behind her back with zip ties and her feet the same, and she's barely seven.

"Finish her, Damian. Prove your loyalty." Ra's says and his eyes are cold and unfeeling.

Damian throws the blade to the side and lunges for the little girl, the person he's supposed to kill, and the sun cackles in his ears as the seconds pass.

He's frozen in air, and Ra's chuckles, standing from his throne.

The little girl- _what's her name, what's her name, what's her story-_ only whimpers more as his grandfather grabs his sword and calmly walks in front of her.

"Don't you dare-" Damian shouts, jerking against the hands of time.

It only tightens it's grip.

"I'm only doing what you can't." Ra's tells him, and Damian meets the little girl's eyes, and she's so scared, so so scared, and Damian can't-

"I'm sorry." He whispers a moment before her head lands against the ground.

Damian falls, and he curls up, tears filling his eyes as he breaks down.

 _H_ e _couldn't save her, he couldn't save her, what use is he when he can't save an innocent girl-_

Talia places a hand on his shoulder and the walls disintegrate under his grief, and his family is there, waiting in costume, and they're here to save him, Damian knows-

But their faces are twisted into disgust and hatred.

"Father!" Damian shrieks-with joy or despair, he doesn't know- and reaches out a hand.

He needs for it to be taken, needs to be pulled to his feet and to be able to stand by his family's side, but it isn't.

Father doesn't step forward, Tim doesn't, Alfred, Jason, Dick-

No one does.

Damian's hand slaps against the wood.

 _(Tick, tock, tick tock._ A voice hums. _Tick, tock, Damian, tick, tock.)_

"Father?" He breathes, eyes locked on the family he chose, the family he loves with all of his heart, and feels something in his chest wither as they look away.

Stars fizzle out of existence, like the rejection caused them to die before their time.

"Father!"

 _"Damian!"_

He's being held.

Damian fights and fights and struggles, because he knows this chest, knows this Kevlar, and he's terrified that it's still a nightmare, still something that's sickening and horrid as before, and he-

"Damian!" Hands grab his wrists, stopping his blows, and Damian peeks up.

Father is looking at him, face creased with worry, and Damian blinks, once, twice and glances around.

He's-

He's in Gotham.

He got struck by Crane.

"Father?" Damian says, and Father nods, pulling him into a hug.

It's the kind of that only Father can give, big and warm and Damian buries his face in his chest, shaking with fear or relief that it's finally over, neither one of them know, and they don't give a damn, right then.

Damian isn't sure how long they stay there in that warehouse with Crane unconscious next to them and Father simply holding him, and he doesn't care.

Damian is just realizing what he fears the most, and he has his dad there with him, and so he doesn't care.

* * *

"I heard you had a run in with Scarecrow."

Damian regards Tim from his place on the couch.

"So I did." He hums, shifting the blanket on his knees. He's been reading a few books frantically without pause for the last day and it shows; there's five thick novels lying on the ground in front of him and he's halfway through another.

He hasn't moved from this spot for a thirty-six hours.

"You, uh," Tim visibly gathers himself and Damian watches, trying to keep his mind from wandering back to what he saw. "I heard that that you reacted really badly. Like, Bruce had to hold you down bad."

Damian wonders how they thought he would react. Maybe paralyzed with fear? Perhaps vocal?

"I did not get the specifics." He says instead, turning a page.

Tim scratches his arm and clears his throat. What he does when he's awkward. Why didn't Damian know this before? "You ended up...screaming and Bruce couldn't get a good angle to get you the antidote, so he had to hold you down because you were struggling so much."

Damian skips a paragraph. "Fascinating."

 _(Darkness,_ _his creations rebelling, blood red on sword-)_

"And you may be a demon-"

Damian snarls and slams the book shut. " _I am not a demon."_

He could have easily become a demon in his past, could have become everyone's worst nightmare just one hundred years ago, could still become one, but he is not one.

He has the potential.

That doesn't mean he is one.

"...Yeah, okay, but-"

"Get out."

Damian refuses to listen, not when-

 _(Save me, save me, take me away, **please-)**_

-Tim does not believe him, will not stop, and he doesn't-

Damian is just so tired and he wants to fall asleep and never wake up-

But wait, would that count as dying?

 _(Tick, tock, tick, tock-)_

No, no, that would be a coma, right?

He wouldn't be-wouldn't be _dead,_ right?

"Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock-"

Damian's saying it out loud.

"Damian, what are you talking about?"

"Tick, tock, tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock."

"Damian, you need to breath."

"Tick, tock, tick, tock. One, two three, how many minutes until I die?" Damian says, and it's like what he heard in Scarecrow's hallucination, and Tim hurries over.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock."

"Damian, calm down-"

 _"Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock-"_ Damian can't seem to stop, can't seem to quit saying it. It's rhythmic, one two three, one two three, and he can feel the _tick_ and then the _tock_ in his bones, and-

"Shit, Alfred!"

There's hands on his back, words that he can hear, but not comprehend, and all he can repeat is the countdown to his death.

"Master Damian, slow down those ticks and those tocks, and say them with me. Tick. Tock."

That-That's something that Damian can do, something that Damian can say. "Tick. Tock."

It's slower than the tick tocks that echo in his head.

"That's correct. Tick. Tock."

"Tick. Tock." Damian says, feeling encouraged.

"Excellent work, Master Damian."

"Alfred, what happened?"

That's _Jason._

Damian's heart seizes and he stops going as slow. "Tick, tock, tick, tock."

 _(Jason leaving, Jason coming back, Jason, Jason, Jason-)_

Gloved hands on his cheeks. Damian opens his eyes and there's Alfred. Old and aged and wise, and staring at him, just him.

Damian looks Alfred in the eyes and breathes a bit easier.

"Shall we try that again, Master Damian?" He asks, and Damian nods shakily. "Good. Tick. Tock."

"Tick. Tock."

"Marvelous, Master Damian. Now, again. Tick. Tock."

"Tick. Tock."

Father enters at some point, and so does Dick, but all Damian can see is Alfred, and he falls asleep to that sight.

* * *

Damian wakes up in his bed, and that metronome is still going away in the back of his head, but he feels at peace.

He might want to draw solar wind.

With the way he could see light, could twist and bend it to his liking, he can see it.

 _(They didn't listen earlier, why would they listen now?)_

Damian shrugs the thought off. That was Scarecrow. He has complete control.

Damian looks down and clenches his fist.

Light shines and Damian basks in his control.

 _He_ controls.

They don't do a damn thing he doesn't tell them to.

Damian wakes up and he thinks his confidence is redeemed.

* * *

He's banned from patrol.

Damian gapes as his father gets dresses, pulls the cowl over his head. "Father-" Damian starts, grabbing the cape to pull him back.

He's halfway dressed for patrol, tunic and pants on, but nothing else, and Damian doesn't understand why he can't go out.

"You need a week off." Father rumbles, looming and so much like a shadow, and Damian's fingers slip from the cloth, eyes wide.

Father hasn't done that in months.

"Father…"

Father sighs and kneels in front of him, gently grabbing his shoulders. "Damian, you got sprayed by Crane just a few days ago." He gives his son a small shake, and Damian can see how his eyes are creased with worry, how his jaw is clenched. "Damian, I-"

 _I_ _can't let you get hurt again. I can't lose you to your mind again._

It goes unsaid, but Damian hears it as though it was shouted. Damian rests his head on his father's shoulder, light and hesitant, and feels Father's hands on his back and his head. "Fine." He says, and maybe he feels his heart become less weighed down when Father buries his face into his hair and whispers a _t_ _hank you._

So Damian doesn't go.

* * *

"Damian?"

Dick.

Damian ignores him, moving his hand bit to the left. The moon turns just the right angle and the full radiance of it shines down. Damian breathes it in, lets his muscles relax. He's been too wound up these last few days, far too tense, and he could feel it beginning to take a tole on the earth and the universe in general.

Tectonic plates have shifted, the stars shine a little brighter, and radiation has become more poisonous, even the good kind.

Damian thought of his family and how much he cares for them, and knew that he had to stop it.

"Damian."

Jason.

Why-

"Hello." Damian says, and he taps his fingers against his thigh in the same rhythm as the tick tocks in his head.

 _One, two. One, two._

Jason's eyes are drawn to that, and so Damian has to stop. After his panic attack, he doesn't want them to know anything.

"What do you want?"

Dick shifts in place, and Damian watches it with exasperation bordering on irritation. He really doesn't wish to deal with this.

"We…"

"We just wanted to see if you were okay." Jason says, taking the lead, and Damian suddenly feels exhausted.

Everything's making him feel tired lately.

Something may be fucking up in his body.

Damian breathes through his nose, pats his leg _-tick, tock-_ and stands from his position on the ground.

It seems that his activity for tonight is canceled.

It seems that he can't seem to do anything.

"I'm fine. Perfectly functionable."

He might not be. Might not be, because all he seems to think now is how much of a disappointment he is, and he truly is, all he can think about is how hopeless he is, how much he has _failed_ to become human-

"Damian, just because you're functionable doesn't mean that you're okay." Dick's on his knees in front of him, smile soft and looking like he wants to pull him into a hug.

Damian can't stand physical contact right now; plasma's burning underneath his skin, rolls and turns and a flare from a star is threatening to burst from his throat. Asteroids are beating against his bones, and the sun is spinning in his heart, blazing and heated, and-

"Damian-"

It's Jason, and normally Damian would welcome any touch from him, would hoard it selfishly in his memory, but-

But right now, his body is too small, his soul too big, and his power is trying to destroy everything around him.

Light glows on his veins and the sky breaks above, a tiny crack that grows and grows, and his eyes smolder with the cosmos, and Damian needs to calm down _now, but they won't go away-_

"Go away." He croaks, and he shakes and trembles in place, and he can't keep _doing this,_ can't keep his emotions in their little box. He's never felt anything like this, never felt anything like this before he became a human, and he doesn't know how they deal with it.

Dick pulls him into a hug, pulls him into his chest, and Damian hits him until his knuckles ache and shouts until he's hoarse, and Dick still doesn't let him go.

"It's okay, it's okay." Dick soothes, and Jason's watching, and Dick's rubbing his back and Damian breaks down into tears, cries into his brother's shoulder, halting and shuddering, and Damian is so glad that they didn't leave.

Jason comes up and allows Dick to grab him and include him in the hug, and Damian's held between his two brothers in a comforting embrace, and his breathing comes slower and easier until he's dropping off to sleep.

He misses the look that Dick and Jason exchange.

* * *

"Where's the little bird?" Poison Ivy taunts, and Bruce grits his teeth, thinking of that little boy with shining eyes in the Batcave, looking up at him like he understood, like he has the world on his shoulders, and Bruce has to throw a bat-a-rang at a vine.

It beeps-one, two, three-and explodes.

Ivy screeches in outrage, and Bruce is barely paying attention.

He can only think of Damian, tiny Damian who always seem too mature and yet not, screaming on the floor of a warehouse, crying out for someone, anyone.

Bruce's oath of not to kill was the only thing keeping his hand from ending the life of Crane.

Damian should never be doing that, never be-

He dodges the incoming thorns and shakes himself. He has to keep his head in the fight, otherwise he won't come home, and Damian will be left without him _again._

He can't do that to his son, can't do that to his family. Not again.

"Looks like you need a hand."

Bruce glances up, and Jason stares back, iconic helmet held under his arm.

"Help would be appreciated." He grunts, blocking a plant with his gauntlet.

Jason rolls his eyes, slipping on his namesake and dropping down.

"Alright. But I need to talk to you." He pauses, and Bruce inclines his head towards him. "About-about the kid."

Bruce nods and they throw themselves into the fray, and through it all, Bruce is still thinking of that boy with glowing irises and love so complete that it could cover the globe.

If Jason wants to talk about Damian, Bruce will talk about Damian.

* * *

"So?" Bruce crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing behind his mask.

Jason takes off the helmet and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "There's something wrong with him."

"There is nothing wrong with my son." Bruce snarls, and Jason backs up.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that there's something he's hiding, something that he's keeping from us." Jason tries again, and Bruce falls silent, cape whipping to the side in the wind.

"What do you think it is?" He asks, voice like thunder, and Jason shrugs.

"I don't know." Jason sighs, and looks down to the stone below. "I don't know. But I don't think it's good."


	4. Chapter 4

When Damian wakes up, Father is watching from the doorway, costume still on and cowl pulled back.

Damian quickly sits up and says, "Good morning, Father."

Father frowns, and Damian refuses to think it's because of him. Must have been a difficult night, is all-Damian wasn't allowed to listen in on the comms at Dick's persistence and Alfred's pointed stare.

Really. He's banned from patrol, and can't even stay alert of what is happening.

"Father? How was patrol?"

Father shakes his head minutely, and now Damian's frowning.

Something is obviously wrong here.

"Father?"

Father smiles, and Damian relaxes. It must be a stubborn case or something like that. He'll find out later.

(Thing is, Damian doesn't know how many "laters" he has left, how much time is left in this body's lifespan. He doesn't know if he will ever find out what's bothering his parent, and it tugs at his thoughts.)

"Shall we go get breakfast?" Damian asks instead, and Father nods, relief weighing his shoulders down.

"I should go get changed." Father says, and Damian smirks.

"You should. Pennyworth will have no mercy if you show up at the table dressed like that."

Father gives a small huff, looking him over once, and then again, lingering on Damian's eyes before walking away.

Damian's left standing in confusion and sudden apprehension festering in his heart.

* * *

It seem that he was right to be cautious.

Damian gazes at the people sitting at his table and subtly shuffles back.

Too many people too early in the morning, and Damian had no warning, no signs to prepare.

He doesn't know what the hell they're here for, but Damian wants them gone _now._

"Hey, Damian!" Dick Grayson chirps, and Jason Todd inclines his head, and Tim Drake waves as a sign of hello.

Damian narrows his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Dick pouts, but Damian catches the glance he shares with his family, and that leaves Damian to wonder just what is going on.

"The old man invited us." Jason says instead, and Damian looks over at him with surprise.

"And you came?"

Jason grins, but it's more like a grimace, and it makes Damian flinch back, fingers tapping on his leg.

Tick, tock. Tap once, then twice. Rinse and repeat.

Rhythmatic

"Indeed he did, Master Damian." Alfred breaks the silence that settled over the group as if it was merely wet paper, and not for the first time, Damian is glad for his boldness. "Now, why don't you sit down."

Damian takes his usual place, and stares at his siblings, puzzlement clear.

"But why did Father call you here?" He asks, and Tim hides a flinch.

"Damian…. He-" Dick starts, and Jason cuts him off.

"You're hiding something. Something big, and it's not good. We want to know what it is."

Damian sits and stares, hands clenching on the table.

They-

Stars burst in his blood, and Damian doesn't stop the way his eyes glow.

"What?"

The wood cracks underneath his fingers.

Father sweeps into the room, and Damian's heart stops.

"We want to know what you're hiding." Jason repeats, and Damian-

Damian flies to his feet, chair clattering behind him, and the molecules of the air around him vibrate.

"What I keep to myself is my own business. I would tell you if I felt the need to." He says, and the countdown in his head goes _one, two,_ and Damian ignores it the best he can.

"Damian." Father says, voice stern, and from the way Tim shrinks slightly, that was supposed to be intimidating or compel him to talk.

Damian locks his jaw instead.

He's older than everything, older than the universe itself. If Father thinks that he can make Damian tell, he has a completely different person in mind.

Damian is stubborn. Damian is patient. And Damian knows that he could simply walk away now and never return.

He pays no mind to how that idea makes something ache.

"No." Damian says instead, and stands his ground against his family.

They don't need to know what he is.

And they certainly don't need to know about the tick tocks in his mind.

"I refuse."

Damian leaves the room with an empty stomach and thoughts full of storms.

* * *

"That didn't go well."

"Well, what did you expect? Damian's a defensive kid. He doesn't tell you anything unless he wants to."

"Still-"

"No. We don't bombard him like that."

"...What if we-"

"Let Dick talk. He knows Damian best."

"Thanks, Bruce." A pause. "So here's what we're going to do."

* * *

Damian watches Father fight on the screen, adding in advice and warnings through the microphone on his headphones, and he notices the way Tim comes up from behind him.

"What do you want, Drake?" He asks, and winces internally as Father gets a crowbar to the arm. "Father, there's five more headed your way, and they have assassin training."

"Understood." Father grunts back, and punches a thug into the wall and whirls around to catch a bat with his gauntlet.

Tim puts a hand on the back of the chair, and Damian is reminded of when he took Tim's staff.

Damian tucks a foot under him and leans back, eyes narrowed as he sees Father grapple his way to the rooftop above, drug dealers tied up and unconscious.

He presses a button and sends the coordinates to the police.

Tim's still here.

Damian give a _-tt-_ and turns around, leg swinging an inch from the ground as he does so.

Sometimes, he truly hates his height.

"What do you _want?"_ Damian hisses, hackles rising.

He had yet another nightmare last night, he can't go on patrol, and Tim is still here.

Dark matter growls in his throat, and Damian almost lets it come out.

Almost.

Tim shrugs. "I wanted to see the results of the analysis of the fear toxin."

Damian frowns, the images of what he saw rising. "They're over there." He says instead, pointing at the file.

Tim should have known where they are.

Damian breathes through his nose and directs his attention to the screen again. "Father-"

Damian shoots to his uniform, frantically pulling it on because _Father is surrounded by assassins and Damian isn't there-_

They're aiming to _kill._

Damian simply _can't_ lose his father again.

Just as he climbs on his motorcycle, Tim grabs his arm, and everything is weird, a sharp ringing in his ears, but Tim points to the screen, and Damian looks over and-

Dick is there, at Father's back, and they're beating Talia's operatives, and relief is a crippling thing in Damian's chest.

He nearly falls to the ground with the weight of it crushing his shoulders.

"Da...Dami...Damian."

Tim's talking.

Damian blinks up at him, and his eyes are vacant and without thought, and Tim sighs.

"Damian."

Damian blinks again, eyelids heavier than a solid planet and the thought of Father and Dick coming home makes him straighten his back no matter how much it pains him and take steps towards the Batcomputer, each one feeling like it shatters the stone beneath him, and he stops only an inch before he touches the desktop.

Damian takes a breath and sits back down again, and Tim hops up on beside him, reading the file in his hands, and everything is silent for a moment.

"Damn, Crane got creative this time. We're lucky that the antidote even worked." Tim mutters, and it breaks the quiet.

"What do you mean?" Damian asks, raising his eyes to look at his older brother.

Tim turned the folder around. "Look-that component is the main thing in this." And suddenly Damian knew what Tim meant.

This fear toxin is more like a suicide gas.

Damian grips the armrests.

Tim falls still, letting Damian mull over his thoughts.

"So...if an antidote wasn't delivered in time, the victim would die?" Damian finally ventures, and although he's certain, he wants confirmation.

"Yep. They'd kill themselves." Tim says grimly.

Damian leans back.

The second before Father had given him the antidote, he had been close to ending his life, no matter what the countdown said it was his time or not because everything was just too much.

"...It seems that I was saved just in time." Damian finally says.

Tim's head snaps up.

* * *

"Guys, Damian was close to killing himself."

 _"What?"_

"Dick, calm down. What-"

"The new formula for the fear toxin. Look at it."

"...Oh _shit."_

"Yeah. So I'm thinking that-"

"He's...still thinking of doing it, isn't he?"

A shuffle.

"I think so."

"It's my turn anyways, so I'll make sure."

"...Thanks, Jason."

A sigh.

"Hey, I don't want the kid dead anymore than you do."

* * *

Damian blinks.

"Jason, what are you-"

"I'm saying that we're going on patrol together." Jason says, helmet tucked under his arm.

"But I am banned from patrol." Damian says.

Jason snorts, and Damian's heart aches at the familiarity. "Yeah, like that's ever stopped you before."

Damian's fingers itch to pull the hood of his jacket up in defense. "Yes, but-"

That was before this week.

Jason ruffles his hair, and Damian immediately claws at him, teeth bared.

"Alright, no touch." Jason jokes, and slips on his namesake. "Get dressed and let's go."

Damian tilts his head a bit before nodding and heading off.

Jason watches him the entire time, and Damian times his stride to the tick tocks in his head.

He misses the way Jason counts them and frowns.

* * *

Damian throws himself into battle the moment he's able, and Jason watches with his arms crossed.

It reminds Damian of those times when he was training and Talia was watching in front of him with cold eyes and expectations, but Jason was right behind him with encouraging words and a sharp grin and eyes the exact opposite of Talia's.

A bullet slams into the stone next to his head, and Damian grabs the gun it came from, throws it to the ground and twists the man's arm until he screams.

Damian drops him and gives a nerve pinch that makes him go unconscious.

Damian tells the police where to find them, and climbs his way to the roof, taking the hard way up, needing to feel that burn in his muscles.

Jason follows, and for the first time in months Damian is glad that he does.

But Damian fights and he gets hurt, gets injuries that could have been avoided, and it's around three when Jason says, "That's enough."

Damian's arms are aflame, and his legs are sore, but his heart is lighter and his mind is clearer as he falls asleep

He doesn't see the way Jason was watching him.

* * *

"Replacement right."

"Fuck."

"What confirmed it?"

"Always to the point, huh, Bruce?"

"Jason, just tell us!"

"Fine. He was reckless with his life out on the field."

"Jason, you let him _out?"_

"Calm down, Dickiebird."

"Dick, that was the best way to see if that was true."

A low growl.

"There's something else."

Silence.

"...I'm going next."

* * *

"Little D!"

Damian's tugged into a hug-it's the kind Dick gives, and Damian relaxes.

"Grayson." He says, and pulls away, arms crossed with a scowl firmly in place.

"I thought that we could watch a movie and get some food." Dick says, and when he grins, his teeth catches the sunlight.

Damian gapes on the inside. How is it that the sun favors Dick more than him?

 _Well_. He thinks as he's dragged outside and stuffed into the car with complaints and snarls from him at the manhandling. _This is Dick Grayson._

Dick ends up taking him to see Captain Underpants and he laughs the whole time, and even Damian has a small smile and gives a huff of amusement at parts he finds particularly hilarious

"Did you like it?" Dick asks as they leave, and he's still eating the candy and sipping at his soda, and Damian feels the monster lingering just underneath his mind, the one that devours every single positive thought and spits it out negative-

He feels it falter for just a moment.

"Yes." He says, and he feels triumphant that he managed that because lately-

Lately, it's been so much harder to just say the truth.

Dick gives him a smile, and takes him to eat pizza, and Damian's day isn't overshadowed by that countdown, and he falls asleep with the monster slain for the night and the cosmos churning above his head.

* * *

"So?"

"He's...I'm pretty sure that he's depressed. There's more, but that's the best I could get with what little time I had."

"Fucking _fuck!"_

"Jason!" Sharp and unrelenting. "Damian could hear us!"

"Sorry for fucking caring!"

"I do care!"

"Shut up!"

The jumble of papers.

"Look, Damian has some issues, but right now we have another problem."

"Grayson? Todd? Drake? Father?"

"Hey-"

"What are you all doing?"

Eyes span over the group.

"We're just talking, don't worry about it."

A frown.

"We are!" A nudge.

"Damian, we were discussing a case."

"Why do you need all four of you?"

"Because it is a case with a villain we all have experience with. And you need to go take Titus out."

"Fine, Father."

Door swinging closed.

"...Bruce, you're a lifesaver."

* * *

Damian stands in uniform, more at home than he's felt in a week, and Father is at his back as more assassins come.

"Father-"

"Robin, I know." It's soft, and Damian whirls around, foot hitting the side of his opponent.

He goes flying.

Father's surrounded by the unconscious bodies of assassins, and the line of his lips is gentle, and Damian sprints into the next battle, and Father follows.

Damian is at peace, and he thinks that everything will be fine, just so long as this continues.

* * *

Talia is going to attack.

Damian sucks in a breath as he watches the army Talia amassed march their way to Gotham.

All of this just to...

"Tick, tock." Damian murmurs under his breath, and his heart pounds and a supernova shudders in his chest.

A hand settles itself on his head.

Damian looks up and Father is looking down at him, and Dick is smiling, and Jason is right behind them with a gun, and Tim is analyzing the screen for weaknesses, and Alfred is coming down the stairs with a tray tucked under his arm.

"It'll all be okay. We'll beat them back, and no one will get hurt." Dick says, and Jason nods.

"Least of all you."

* * *

Damian tries to believe it but-

But this is Gotham.

And Damian can't let his family fight alone, and so he goes out, and the tick tock grows bigger.

* * *

Everything goes to shit.

Nothing is like what he wants, nothing is like what he wishes for, and Damian-

Damian blinks tiredly as yet another opponent charges forward, and deflects their attack with a flick of his fingers.

Nobody's around, and he's so fucking war-weary that he can't be bothered to care if any cameras caught it.

The tick tock in his head is the loudest it's ever been, a crashing bang against his ears, and Damian knows that today he will die.

He...

He's not ready to leave Earth, leave this life behind. He's not ready to go back to the silence, to his isolation among the stars, to a life without Alfred and Father in the same house, to a life without any of his family near.

He's not _ready,_ and Damian doesn't think he ever will be.

But-

But that very same family is fighting for him, and he has to fight too, has to fight because he might lose any of them today, and if he's going to die, he will do it saving those he loves.

So here he is, exhausted beyond relief, and just wanting to sleep, not even lifting his sword, when he sees-

"Grayson!"

The name tears itself out of his throat and he runs towards his brother, towards his clone, and the countdown grows impossibly louder.

Damian's arms are shaking and he can barely stand, but he's not going to sit idly by and let someone who shares his DNA but not his memories, not his _powers,_ hurt his family.

"Look at me!" He shouts, and then he has the Heretic baring down on him, and he has arrows in his skin and stars bursting in his chest, and he bares his teeth without a care for his life as he pounces.

Talia is near by, watching and waiting, and Damian grins, bloody and wild, and with radiation infecting his breath as he says, "Are you too cowardly to kill me yourself?"

Dick is unconscious on the ground behind him, and there's a echoing _tick._

Suddenly he's backed into a corner with no idea how he got there, and though she's long lost the title, Damian pleads with her. Just once.

It's the first time he's ever done it.

"Call him off… Mother…"

There's no reply, no actions to show she even heard him.

Damian tries to leap over the Heretic's head, tries to get more ground because he's too tired, too hyped up on adrenaline to safely use his powers so he can't just incinerate his clone, but there's a sword and-

 _Tock._

He has a sword in his chest.

Damian's mouth falls open as pure agony wrecks his mind, and for a single moment, everything blanks out.

He's vaguely aware of falling to the ground, and there's no more tick tocks in his head.

"Goodbye." He manages to Dick, to everyone, and his cape falls over his face just as he closes his eyes and his heart stops.


End file.
